


heads on a science apart

by very_important_army



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Chanyeol builds robots, Fluff, Kinda?, Kyungsoo has a metal arm, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:48:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25174141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/very_important_army/pseuds/very_important_army
Summary: "Stupid arm," Kyungsoo curses, for the tenth time that day.
Relationships: Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Park Chanyeol
Comments: 5
Kudos: 43
Collections: Challenge #4 — Into the Future





	heads on a science apart

**Author's Note:**

> Does this count as sci-fi? I hope so, even if I didn't get all that tech-y and futuristic. I've been reading too much Stucky fanfiction.

_ “Stupid,”  _ Kyungsoo growls angrily, thumping his right arm against the counter. The metal clangs loudly against the granite. 

“Are you okay?” Chanyeol looks up from where he’s tinkering with his huge, worried eyes. Kyungsoo exhales sharply through gritted teeth. 

“Fine.” Kyungsoo tries again, throwing away the broken chopstick. Ever since the accident, he’s had to deal with this clunky metal arm, with the too thick fingers and too tight grip. It’s too easy now to destroy things, and it requires his utmost focus in order to keep his movements gentle. Things that used to come as a second nature to him, such as cooking for Chanyeol, must be relearned.

The little robot that Chanyeol’s been messing around with glides over in a clanking of gears. It picks up the whisk that Kyungsoo had abandoned, unable to find a comfortable grip, and starts beating the eggs with an almost cheery hum of motors. 

Kyungsoo sighs. Chanyeol is looking at him hopefully, waiting for praise. “You don’t have to worry about feeding us now, right?” 

Kyungsoo pinches the bridge of his nose with his flesh hand. “I appreciate it, Chanyeol,” he says, glum. 

Chanyeol comes up behind him, pulling him into a hug against his chest. He’s tall enough so that his chin rests on Kyungsoo’s head, and he can feel the rumble of Chanyeol’s voice against his neck. “What’s wrong?”

“I just miss feeling...functional,” Kyungsoo waves the metal arm around abstractly. It squeaks violently at the joint in protest. “And I miss not having to oil myself every two hours.” 

Chanyeol already has the little can of lubricant in hand, pouring grease into the crook of Kyungsoo’s elbow. Kyungsoo keeps still, letting Chanyeol fuss over him. 

“There!” Chanyeol gives Kyungsoo his arm back with a happy beam. “Good as new.”

“Go wash your hands,” Kyungsoo says. He wipes at an oil grease on Chanyeol’s cheek. “And your face.” He rescues the whisk from the little robot, who powers down at a click on Chanyeol’s remote. “I’ll finish dinner.” 

“I believe in you!” Chanyeol calls out as he jogs away. Kyungsoo doesn’t respond, but he can’t stop the smile that creeps across his face anyway. If he tries hard enough, this stupid arm will eventually listen to his brain. Hopefully. 

\--

Kyungsoo has barely seen Chanyeol for the past week. It’s not the first time that Chanyeol’s cooped himself into their garage, where his makeshift station resides, but normally he can’t shut up about whatever project he’s working on. Chanyeol didn’t stop talking about his singing robot for  _ weeks _ .

This time, however, Chanyeol is abnormally silent. He’s jittering like he’s about to explode with the secret, but he always snaps his teeth shut at the last second. Kyungsoo is impressed, despite himself. 

It all comes to head the next time Kyungsoo tries to take a bath. He has to wrap his arm in plastic wrap every time he does, but somehow water leaks into the wires of his arm. His arm doesn’t move. Kyungsoo growls in frustration, now down to one non-dominant hand.

He picks up his right arm with his left and smacks it against the counter a couple times. Experience tells him that sometimes brute force will get it working properly again. Sometimes. 

The banging must draw Chanyeol’s attention, because he sticks his head into the fog-filled bathroom. 

“Soo! Come with me!” He grabs Kyungsoo’s hand, the flesh one, and starts to pull him away like an excited puppy on a leash. 

“Chanyeol! I am naked!” Kyungsoo protests. He fumbles with the t-shirt that Chanyeol throws at him, as Chanyeol watches him dress impatiently. 

“Close your eyes,” Chanyeol says, stopping when they get to the door off the garage. Kyungsoo complies, letting Chanyeol steer him towards his worktable. “And...open?” Chanyeol’s voice is soft, but clearly anticipating his reaction.

There’s an arm on Chanyeol’s workbench. A metal one. One that is much smaller, more precise-looking, about the same size as Kyungsoo’s actual arm. 

Chanyeol takes his toolkit to carefully remove Kyungsoo’s dead arm from its socket. He clicks the new one into place, before looking at Kyungsoo with those puppy eyes again. “How’s it feel?”

Kyungsoo flexes his fingers. His joints move smoothly, silently, able to twist in more elaborate ways than his old arm. It’s lighter than what Kyungsoo’s used to. Smaller, but he no longer feels lopsided. If Kyungsoo tries hard enough, if he closes his eyes, he can almost pretend like he never lost his arm in the first place. 

He opens his eyes. Chanyeol is waiting with bated breath.

“Thank you, Chanyeol.” 

When Chanyeol smiles, there’s a warm feeling coursing through him that even the cool metal can’t take away.


End file.
